


Hard crash

by Lady_Talla_Doe



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Clothed Sex, Enemy Lovers, First Time, Frottage, Grinding, Hate Sex, M/M, Rough Kissing, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26728303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Talla_Doe/pseuds/Lady_Talla_Doe
Summary: Col Young discovers there's more than one way to deal with tension, after Rush disobeys a direct order.
Relationships: Nicholas Rush/Everett Young
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	Hard crash

**Author's Note:**

> just trying to finish something. i feel absolutely fried recently. this has been hanging around my drafts on my old computer

[my writing twitter](https://twitter.com/lady_talla_doe/status/1309580695556091904?s=19)

* * *

* * *

Young rubbed the heel of his hand against his eyes, feeling a headache blooming behind them.

“You did what?” He repeated, softly.

Rush was too wrapped up in his own genius to notice the dangerous calm of his tone. The careful restraint as he placed his free hand on the side of the nearest console, fingers spread, to keep from balling it into a fist. Young might seem like a slow learner to Rush, but he _did_ learn; striking the man wasn’t going to solve anything.

He continued his excited explanation; his brown eyes were bright, face animated, and voice so quick that his lilting accent was stealing some of his words away from Young.

Any other time, he might have enjoyed seeing him like this. For the first time in weeks, Rush didn’t look like the tired husk of a man.

But Young had _specifically_ ordered him to stay away from the chair.

Rush seemed to finally catch a read off of Young, and his rabid speech softened and faded, hesitance in his face. Doubt followed quickly on its heels, and again Young felt a pang of regret, immediately missing the bright, animated energy. But dammit, he had warned him.

He let silence hang heavy in the room between them, long enough for Rush to squirm with that same restless energy- the man needed to do _something_ , but all his attention was focused on Young, waiting to see his reaction. When Young took a step forward, Rush took two quick, stumbling steps backwards. Fear flickering across his gaunt face, before he carefully hid that. He wasn’t a tall man, but the way he ducked his gaze and curled his shoulders, making himself even smaller under Young’s gaze- he visibly shrank as he retreated. Rush didn’t hunch his shoulders up, but it was still clear he was expecting a punch.

Young paused, measured his own stride. Kept his advance intentionally slow compared to Rush. He wasn’t going to hurt Rush, but honestly he wanted Rush to think he was in _danger_.

As the man backed away from Young, his body language was so primal, so animalistic. It had always struck Young how discordant that was; such an intellectual man, who ranked other’s value to him by their intellect and personal usefulness, would be so _loud_ with his body language. He was practically screaming at Young _don’t hurt me_.

So he didn’t. Wouldn’t even _touch_ him.

It was a hunch, a gut sort of feeling- it wasn’t like punching Rush had gotten him anywhere good, historically. Right now he was still passive, every line of his too-thin body screaming appeasements. If Young _didn’t_ act on the violence that burned in his gut, the throb of frustration at the back of his skull- maybe they could actually get somewhere.

So he silently backed Rush up, let him scramble around consoles, his nervous fingers darting over Destiny’s smooth metal lines, brushing and trailing, and gripping at her walls, until ultimately he had backed himself into a corner.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, although he tipped his chin down and his brown eyes darted between Young’s face, and the floor near his feet. Rush _looked_ the part of someone who regretted starting something they couldn’t finish, but Young knew from experience there seemed to be some sort of hardwired fault in his fight or flight instincts that made the scientist into a feisty little bastard even when everything about him visibly said _I give up don’t hurt me_.

Rush _should_ be smart enough not to pick fights with people bigger, faster, and stronger than him, but he was tenacious like that. Any other circumstance, any other place, Young would have admired him for it. Here and now, it made him a thorn that needed plucking.

Instead of striking him, Col. Young stepped close in until he could feel Rush’s heat, almost feel his frantic heartbeat. Young tilted his face down to look at the way the scientist’s lashes fluttered against his cheek, as he turned his face away, averting his eyes. Watched his shoulders tense, could see those clever hands ball up in preparation for a strike- so he leaned in, and carefully put one hand on the bulkhead beside Rush’s head, leaning into his space. Palm flat on the wall, fingers splayed, right at Rush’s eye level.

Leaned close enough to hear his breath stutter.

Close enough to _feel_ the way his muscles went slack with shock.

Young was too _close_ to hurt Rush; he was wide open if Rush wanted to strike him. It was an arrogant pose, something he hadn’t be stupid enough to do since they landed on Destiny. He might not have any first-hand experience, but Young had no doubt Rush was a biter.

It amused him, watching confusion run so visibly across his face; Rush’s breathe stuttered out of him, and he shrank back against the wall. Young watched in interest as the rough texture of Destiny’s walls caught the scientist’s hair, lifting the long strands. Knowing the way he tended to tie himself up in knots, Rush likely thought this was some type of trap.

He let him stew in the silence, savored it for long enough for it to likely be cruel of him.

Then Young leaned in on the opposite side, boxing Rush in, and spoke very softly.

His lips brushing the shell of Rush’s ear.

“I told you to stay away from the chair.” He didn’t miss the way Rush shivered.

The man was very still underneath him.

“What do you think I should do,” he paused, letting his words hang soft in the air, “…Rush?”

He shivered. It was a hard motion, like he was cold, and for a fraction of a second the scientist’s lips parted as he leaned up unconsciously, before flattening himself to the wall. His breath was fast now, frantic.

Young backed up half a step so he could get a good look at him. Rush kept his eye’s firmly on the floor, hands at his side- they were spread against Destiny’s metal walls like he was holding onto her. His knuckles were white, bloodless with tension, and his thin chest rose and fell rapidly with each quick breath. Although he was careful to keep the fall of his hair over his eyes, Young still caught him when he darted a look; there was the fire.

When he was caught stealing a look, Rush refused to look away.

His eyes were large and dark, and confident now, Young leaned in again. He took a chance and rested his free hand over his breastbone; Rush’s breath caught, and again he leaned unconsciously into the touch. The tension was morphing from violence into something else, and Young wasn’t inclined to stop it.

“Been a long time, huh,” he murmured, studying the strangely compelling mix of anger and lust in Rush’s brown eyes. It was alluring, the way his brow furrowed, and his mouth pulled down but his hands dragged at Young’s jacket to pull him closer, prevent him from backing away.

“Shut up,” growled Rush, and he used his grip on Young’s jacket to pull him into a harsh kiss. But he softened with a groan of appreciation as Young gripped his jaw, and threaded a hand in his long hair, pressing Rush back against the wall and kissing him back. The scientist’s clever hands wormed under his clothing, dragging his shirt up out from his belt, short nails digging in hard enough to leave stinging scratches on the small of his back that Rush’s warm hand’s soothed away as it swept up his spine.

Young had no issue following Rush’s rude demand; he was too busy squeezing wet, needy noises from him, as he pushed a thigh between Rush’s legs, and locked him tight against him with an arm around the small of his back. He was so small compared to Young; perhaps not much shorter, but thin and refined, his entire bulk fitting neatly in Young’s shadow. His own wide shoulders and broad chest, with its military muscle dwarfed the scientist, and those clever, restless fingers dug into his shoulders as he made Rush groan into his mouth, rubbing his clothed thigh into the man’s erection.

All the resistance and fight melted away, and he was needy, almost feral, nipping Young when he wanted more, digging his fingers into his ass to drive his hips forward; so Young pinned him against the wall with his weight, hand twisted in Rush’s hair to hold his head back until his slim neck was arched.

Spit slick lips whispered curses as Young licked his throat, plump from kisses and bruised a pretty colour from the harshness of it. His brown eyes were glazed, unfocused, and Rush moaned easily when Young ground into his dick.

Helpless to make Young go faster, unable to do anything but soak it all up, Rush relaxed in his grip, twisting his hands in Young’s shirt. His hips rolled into each of Young’s, breath choppy; gasping, Rush tensed with a short, cut off noise.

Young watched it, avidly, the scientist’s face tense with pleasures, eyes dark and unseeing as his mouth twisted in a silent curse, and his short nails dug in hard enough to cut skin.

It had been about power, not sex, but looking at him lost in orgasm, Young was tempted. He loosened his hold on Rush, letting him collapse against his chest, and petted his hair slowly. Rush leaned a damp forehead against the side of Young’s neck, his breath warm and heavy against Young’s ear.

“Been a while, huh?” Young needled, playfully. The scientist didn’t move, although those wet pants couldn’t be very comfortable.

Young’s own pants were far too tight, and honestly, he was starting to see the benefit of exploring this as an alternate to their normal outlet for conflict.

“Shut up.” said Rush, with no heat.

**Author's Note:**

> My writing twitter had all the information on how to make requests, please don't leave them in the comments.


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